


Upon Reflection

by stolen_pen_name23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flirting, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29960271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolen_pen_name23/pseuds/stolen_pen_name23
Summary: After an evening at a senatorial ball, Obi-Wan walks Satine home. It’s only natural that they run into some trouble on the way. OR Obi-Wan gets to use Satine’s heels as a weapon.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 24
Kudos: 82





	Upon Reflection

Satine’s feet hurt. A night of dancing and then a walk home through the duracrete streets of Coruscant in high heels tended to have that effect. It was her own fault really. She was the one who had insisted she wanted to walk back to her apartment. She wanted to “enjoy the night air” as she had explained to Obi-Wan. Nevermind the fact that if she insisted on walking home, he would insist on escorting her. No, it was a beautiful night and that was all there was to it. 

She cast a sideways glance Obi-Wan’s way. She took a moment to admire the formal clothing that adorned his body. It was so rare for him to be in anything but his regular Jedi tunic and robes, but now he wore black boots and trousers, a black button-down and an exquisite midnight blue coat that was decorated with black swirls and paisleys. The mandarin collar stood up, managing to make him look a little taller than he actually was. It was a little big on him in the shoulders, seeing as how he borrowed it from Anakin, but he managed to wear it well. Though unintentional, his outfit coordinated well with the sleek blue gown she wore. 

Satine’s eye caught his fingers twitching at his side. Guests at the ball were not allowed to bring weapons, even if the guest was a Jedi and the weapon was a lightsaber. Personal politics aside, she knew he felt vulnerable without it and she was grateful he had been willing to forego the weapon for the evening. 

“A credit for your thoughts, Duchess?” he questioned smoothly. Perceptive as always, he had caught her glancing at him. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just observing,” Satine said, recovering quickly and refusing to allow the flush to creep up on her cheeks. 

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Observing?”

She looked at him again, more closely this time.

“You seem… tired.”

“It  _ is _ quite late.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said sadly. The war was taking so much from him. It hurt her to see the dark circles under his eyes that only seemed to deepen every time she saw him. His ginger hair was starting to see flecks of gray on the sides and the lines in his face were deepening. She didn’t care about any of that though. She only cared about what it meant. Satine only hoped that the war would not take much more from him. 

“Ah,” was his only reply. It seemed he knew exactly what she meant. 

A comfortable silence blanketed itself over them as they continued their walk, but Satine grimaced as the edges of her black stilettos cut into her skin.

“Are you alright, Duchess?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Yes, I’m just regretting not breaking these shoes in sooner.”

“Shall I carry you?”

“Don’t be absurd, darling, I’ll just take them off.”

“And walk barefoot on the streets of Coruscant?” Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“Fine, then I’ll just keep wearing them.”

“I hardly see how-” Obi-Wan cut himself off. Satine looked at him and noted the way his whole body stiffened.

“Obi, what-”

“Hush,” he said quietly. Normally, Satine would have snapped back at him for telling her to hush, but she could tell by his stance that something was wrong.

His hand instinctively flung to his hip but fell away when he remembered he was weaponless. He moved closer to her and she watched his eyes dart back and forth across the landscape, searching for whatever it was he sensed. Obi-Wan grabbed her hand and began pulling her along with him. “Come, Duchess, I think we should be on our way.”

“Obi-”

Before she could ask him what it was he sensed, a speeder dropped down from the sky lane, coming to a hover just above the duracrete walkway. Faster than Satine anticipated, four men wielding vibroblades were hopping out of the speeder and encroaching on her and Obi-Wan in a semi-circle formation. Wasting no time, Obi-Wan placed his body in front of hers, shielding her from the bandits. 

“Hand it over,” one of the bandits commanded.

“Apologies, but you’re going to have to be more specific,” Obi-Wan said. “Hand what over?”

“Your credits. The jewelry,” the thief gestured at the silver necklace sitting on Satine’s neck. “Anything of value.”

“You picked the wrong people I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan said. To anyone who didn’t know him, Obi-Wan sounded even and controlled, but Satine knew him better. He was tense, angry and the twitch of his fingers near his hip indicated he felt defenseless. The perfect storm of emotion that indicated her Jedi protector was about to get himself into some trouble. She bit back a sigh. “You see,” Obi-Wan continued. “I don’t have any credits, and well, that necklace belongs to her so I’m afraid you are out of luck.” 

“Like hell, you don’t have any credits. People don’t dress like that if they aren’t dripping in credits.” 

Obi-Wan sighed. “It seems you need to expand your worldview.”

The man stepped forward, jabbing the vibroblade ever closer to Obi-Wan’s neck, but he held his ground. The other three thieves encroached even further on their space. 

“I’m giving you one more chance, Senator,” the thief growled.

_ Ah.  _ The thieves thought they were senators. That must mean they knew about the ball. Perhaps they had been following them and had been waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. Either way, Satine could sense Obi-Wan’s patience running out. 

“I guess I should extend the same courtesy to you,” Obi-Wan said, his sarcastic tone taking on a menacing edge. “I will give you one more chance to get that pathetic stick out of my face and leave me and the lady alone.” 

The thief laughed. “Why would I do that? You’re unarmed and clearly, you have resources. I have nothing to lose.”

“Think again,” Obi-Wan growled as he lunged forward, grabbing the thief’s arm and twisting it until there was a resounding crack. The man screamed as the vibroblade clattered on the duracrete. Obi-Wan kneed the stunned man in the gut and he fell to the ground. 

In an instant, the other three thieves were on him. Obi-Wan moved forward, putting distance between himself and Satine. With grace, Obi-Wan managed to dodge the vibroblades and land blows on his attackers. He twisted another vibroblade out of one of the thief’s hands and punched the man in the nose. There was a sickening crack and the man screamed in pain, his hands flying to his face. He retreated away from the fray, leaving Obi-Wan to fend off the remaining two attackers.

Satine’s eyes darted back and forth between Obi-Wan and the thieves. She pulled off her stiletto. “Obi! Catch!”

He didn’t even turn around. He didn’t have to. He caught the shoe in mid-air and in one fluid motion, struck the thief across the face. With the pointy end.

The thief shrieked and dropped his vibroblade as he fell to the ground. He clutched at his face, blood leaking between his fingers. 

Obi-Wan summoned a vibroblade to his left hand and pointed it at the remaining thief. The thief paused mid-attack and stared at the blade in Obi-Wan’s hand.

“You’re not a senator,” the thief said, eyes widened in terror.

“Good observation,” Obi-Wan said. “I suggest you run.”

The thief turned around and sprinted away. Obi-Wan tossed the vibroblade and broken stiletto aside. He knelt down by the thieves and methodically placed his hand on each of their foreheads. They all fell unconscious at his touch. 

Breathing heavily, Obi-Wan stood up and closed the distance between him and Satine.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan said, eyes pouring over her. “Are you alright?” Gentle fingers tucked a rebellious curl back behind her ear. 

“Yes, I’m completely unharmed. Just missing a shoe.”

“You volunteered it,” Obi-Wan retorted. 

“It felt like the right thing to do in the moment.” 

He smiled at her, but his expression flashed to one of pain. 

“Obi?” Satine asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Adrenaline is wearing off,” he said through clenched teeth. He clutched at his side. His hand came away bloody. 

“Obi-Wan!” Satine exclaimed. She pushed his jacket away and tried to get a closer look at the wound. It was difficult to see with his dark clothing and nothing but a few dim street lamps to light their way. 

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s not a stab wound. I think he just grazed my side.” 

After a quick examination, she realized he was right. That was a relief, but the wound still looked like it was long and quite painful. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said before looking at his hand. “Well…”

His knuckles were bloody and were already quite bruised. Satine could already see his hand and fingers starting to swell. 

“There are advantages to pacifism.”

“Oh let’s not ruin the night further by bringing politics into it.”

Satine smirked at him, but let him have his way. He  _ did  _ just get himself injured while protecting her. She could refrain from arguing with him just this once. “Alright, let’s just go home. We’re nearly there.”

Satine took off her other shoe so she could walk evenly. 

“I can still carry you,” Obi-Wan offered.

“That’s okay dear, I’ve been in much worse conditions than this,” she smiled fondly, her mind traveling to a time many years ago.

“Yes, I suppose you have.” 

Once again, they walked in comfortable silence, but Obi-Wan had gravitated closer to her. Whether it was out of protectiveness or he himself sought comfort, Satine didn’t quite know, but when they reached her door Obi-Wan didn’t immediately pull himself away. 

Satine entered the passcode and stepped over the threshold. She turned to face him. Something like melancholy shone in his eyes. 

“I should go.”

“Obi…”

He looked up at her and she could swear she saw the melancholy in his eyes dissolve into hope before he guarded them again. “Yes, Duchess?”

“Stay. You’re tired. You’re hurt. Just… just stay.”

“I couldn’t put you out like that. I-” he cut himself off with a wince. Satine gave him a pointed look. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Obi. Besides, would you rather  _ I  _ treat that wound or would you rather go to medical? Or worse, would you rather  _ Anakin  _ catch you like this?”

Dread shone in his eyes at the notion. “I’m not hurt  _ that  _ badly,” he muttered as he stepped over the threshold. 

“I know, Obi-Wan, I know,” Satine soothed, closing the door behind him. “We should still get you cleaned up regardless.” 

Wordlessly, Obi-Wan followed behind her. Satine dug around in her kitchen and threw some ice in a small bag. “For your hand,” she said, holding the ice out to him. He accepted it and gingerly held the ice to his bruised knuckles.

Satine led him to the fresher and gestured to the counter. “Sit.”

Obi-Wan sighed, but hopped up on the counter. He shucked off the jacket and untucked his shirt and methodically undid the buttons. When his dress shirt was all the way off, Satine tried to refrain from casting her eyes over his body. Instead, she pointedly focused on finding a washcloth. She dug around in her cabinets until she found a slightly older one she didn’t mind getting a little bloody. With gentle hands, she wiped the dried blood away from around the wound and tried to mop up the fresh blood that still dripped from it. She winced in sympathy as his muscles twitched whenever she got too close to the jagged cut. 

“Any deeper and this would have required stitches, Obi.”

“Well, fortunately, it isn’t deeper.”

When most of the excess blood was removed, she wet a cotton ball with antiseptic.

“This may sting a little,” Satine warned.

“It’s quite alright Duchess.” 

Satine resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  _ Always so stoic.  _

As Satine quietly dabbed at the wound, she reflected on the evening she and Obi-Wan had shared. It had actually been a very pleasant evening up until the part where they got jumped. Normally, Obi-Wan disliked the politics of senatorial gatherings, but he never seemed to mind the balls as much. When she invited him to accompany her, he accepted without his usual complaints. When he picked her up earlier that evening, she relied on all of her experience as a seasoned politician to keep a straight face. She couldn’t reveal to him just how handsome she thought he looked in his formal wear. As it were, when he laid his eyes on her, his mouth had opened and closed a few times like a dying fish before he regained his composure. 

“Ready Duchess?” Obi-Wan asked her.

“Of course, Master Jedi,” she said coyly, taking his offered hand and allowing him to guide her to a temple issued speeder. 

At the ball, the champagne and maybe something else had left her feeling pleasantly buzzed. The two of them spent the evening dancing and exchanging whispered words. It wasn’t the first time Satine had danced with Obi-Wan, but she always marveled at how good of a dancer he was. 

She continued to dab the antiseptic soaked cotton ball on the wound. He winced as the cold solution stung his skin.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a good dancer,” Satine said, breaking the silence between them in an effort to distract him from the pain.

“You’re surprised?” Obi-Wan said with mock-offense. Satine’s efforts worked. 

“Well, not surprised, so to speak,” Satine began. “But I guess I just never put two and two together. I’ve seen you fight and I’ve seen you dance, but I never truly observed that the two skills seem to go hand in hand.”

“In what way?”

“When you fought off those thieves you had so much  _ grace.  _ The way you fight, it’s a choreography all its own. It’s even more true when you have your lightsaber. You fight with the balance and rhythm one needs in a dance.” 

“I’m glad you had time to observe all that while I was busy fighting for our lives,” Obi-Wan quipped.

“Oh stop it, I wasn’t thinking about it in the moment – only in the reflection.”

“What else have you reflected on?”

Satine’s cheeks flushed. “Oh there’s lots to reflect on really,” she said, recovering herself. “For starters, I always find myself in  _ some  _ sort of peril when I’m with you and I’m starting to believe  _ you  _ are the common denominator.” 

“I resent that.”

“It’s true.” Satine paused her administrations and offered him a soft smile. Now he was the one blushing. She turned her gaze back to the wound on his side. The cotton ball she was working with had turned red and she poured antiseptic on a new one. He flinched slightly when she pressed the cold cotton ball to his torn flesh. 

“I’m sorry,” Satine said ruefully. “I’m almost done.”

“It’s quite alright, Duchess,” Obi-Wan said. “You’re more gentle than Helix or Kix and you’re  _ far  _ more gentle than Anakin.”

“Yes, well, I imagine if I had to do this  _ all  _ the time I would become less gentle too.”

“They don’t have to do it ‘ _ all  _ the time.’”

“But frequently enough for you to know who you prefer to treat your wounds?” she smirked. 

“Yes, I suppose so,” he conceded. 

“Here,” Satine said softly as she lay a bacta patch across the wound. “Let me see your hand.”

“My hand is fine, Duchess.”

“Let me see.”

Sighing, Obi-Wan pulled the ice away from his knuckles and held out his right hand to her. She gently examined each of his fingers. “I don’t think anything is broken, just bruised.” 

“I told you,” Obi-Wan said, a smug look of satisfaction crossing his face. 

“You never were above ‘I told you so’s’ were you?”

“You know me so well, Duchess,” he said, hopping off of the counter. He landed close to her, their bodies centimeters apart. For a moment they lingered in each other’s space. He cleared his throat and took a half step to the side. Satine averted her gaze as he grabbed his torn shirt and began buttoning it.

She walked out of the fresher and he followed behind her, jacket in hand. 

“Can I get you anything? Some tea?”

“You tempt me, darling, but I really should go…” 

Satine heard the hesitation in his voice. She knew if she just asked… well, she couldn’t do that. 

“If you must,” Satine said and she could swear she saw something akin to disappointment flash in his eyes before he guarded his expression again. 

“Right, yes,” he said, gathering himself. “Thank you for patching me up, and for letting me borrow your shoe.”

“I don’t think you have the right definition of ‘borrow.’” 

“I’m aware,” he said. “It just seemed a kinder phrase than ‘thank you for letting me bludgeon some stranger with your high heel.”

Satine scrunched her nose at him. “Yes, I suppose it is a kinder phrase.”

He lingered at the door a moment longer. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Duchess. I hope you don’t mind being put in peril once again.”

“Hardly. It keeps things interesting.”

“That it does, Duchess.” He kissed her hand before turning and walking away. 

Satine watched him go before she closed the door behind him. Quietly to herself, she reflected on the evening they shared together. She wondered if he would reflect on it too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I’ve never written anything romantic before, how did I do? I wanted to try something a little tiny bit outside of my comfort zone, but I honestly have no idea what I’m doing so I struggled on this one a bit. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated or you can come talk to me on Tumblr! Thanks for reading!


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